The Humiliation of Percy Weasley
by sixpetalpoppy
Summary: Percy realises how wrong he was and begins to make amends. Percy Weasley oneshot with a bit of Percy/Audrey thrown in.


**The Humility of Percy Weasley**

**Disclaimer: It's all JK's, I'm just playing with it.**

* * *

One thing I keenly remember is how the cobbles tripped me as I made my way home, they always did. I'd never gotten used to living in London: it was so built up, so unusual to me. There were noises at night, more than just the scratching of chickens, the stirrings of siblings or the banging of a ghoul and when the noises didn't keep me up my dreams did. I'd see Mum's face, wrought with distress, Dad's anger blazing red as I enraged and humiliated him equally on a daily basis; of all the Weasley children who would've thought that it would be me, Percy Weasley, to become the outcast? If anyone was going to be cast out, I'd decided long ago, it would be Fred and George; their pranks were, quite frankly, dangerous, they distressed Mother twice as much as anyone else, they were like living with a dungbomb that nobody ever knew when would explode. Even six months after I'd left them I was still quite unable to believe it but they had to understand that I'd turned my back on my family for something more: for truth.

At the time I'd thought Harry Potter's lies were absurd, outlandish and hurtful; my entire family had been sucked in to his tornado of emotional destruction and I couldn't allow myself to follow them too, not when a greater good was at risk. It was for the good of the wizarding world, the good of the ministry, that I left my parents that night and it took months to regret it, even now the knowledge of what I lost still stings in a way I hadn't realised was possible.

Every now and again though I'd go back, though mum and dad never knew it.

I'd linger at the front door, my hand nearly touching the handle, as I considered giving in and accepting the lies my family so readily believed just to have their support behind me.

I'd never realised it before I cast myself out but, I liked having my many brothers around, it felt lonely being out in the world without Charlie or Bill to turn to, without Fred and George's immature pranks to scold and with no Ginny or Ron to see grow and achieve their potential. And Mum, though smothering and coddling was my mum, and I loved her greatly. Dad was a fool, of that there was no doubt, but he was my fool of a father and being without that didn't settle with me well even when I vehemently stood against him.

Audrey, observant as she is, was aware of the growing frequency of my night-time excursions, I didn't doubt it, but she never said anything after the first time.

"Where did you go, Perce?" she asked from our bed, tired but awake with worry.

"To the Burrow," I whispered in response, although I couldn't be sure why I lowered my voice, perhaps I was still scared of facing the reality of my loss.

"Did you go in?" she asked, ever perceptive.

"I couldn't quite manage it, dear," I told her, my voice breaking a little and I wiped my glasses, thankful for the rain outside hiding the incriminating tears.

She patted my hand and pulled me close, pressing a kiss to my cowardly temple and no more was spoken of it.

* * *

Years later, by the time I began to question my predicament, I was, predictably, in too deep.

"I think we've made an awfully big mistake, Audrey," I told her one evening as I stared into the fire and accepted that the Daily Prophet in front of me was good for nothing but kindling.

"The Ministry?" she asked, not wasting words (something I loved about her), but rising to read the paper I was systematically destroying over my shoulder.

I heard her scoff as she read the headline, "yes, I think my dad was right."

"So do I," she agreed, squeezing my shoulder with her hand. "We need to be smart though. Careful."

"We can't be the only ones to feel this way though," I replied desperately, in hindsight I was probably a bit too eager to run back to my family now I could accept their words as true, it would make me reckless if I let it.

"No, but let us not be the only ones stupid to be too vocal about it, we live in a dangerous time, Percy."

"We can't go to Dad then, I suppose we're being watched – you don't mind being thrown in with a blood traitor?" I asked with obvious concern, this was the time to ask, if I were going to turn my back on the Ministry I needed to give her the choice of leaving (as much as it hurt me).

The look she gave me indicated that my question was so outlandish it didn't warrant an answer.

"You have a Hogwarts inspection next week, don't you?" she asked, a plan clearly formulating in her pragmatic Ravenclaw mind. I nodded in affirmation and watched as she smiled openly. "I think it's time you spoke to Professor McGonagall then," she told me and then explained her plan.

* * *

"Mr Weasley, you are telling me now, after all this time, you wish to turn your back on your precious Ministry? Forgive me if I find your proposal hard to believe," the elder witch glared across at me from behind her desk and, in that moment, I felt sympathy quite keenly for my brothers who had been chastised by the witch so often before me. This was my first time, they'd be so proud.

I kept her gaze, despite my shame and tried to plead my case, putting aside my pride. "Professor, I apologise for my past ignorance, but I am fully aware now of the omnishambles that is our Ministry and I feel more responsible than you can believe. If I could go straight to my family, I would; but I believe, and I'm sure you'd agree, that visiting them directly would not be prudent and would damage any inside help I can provide."

She laughed at me then, not a kindly laugh either, her disapproval had been clear the moment I'd walked through her office door, having ducked in away from the Minister and Headmaster Snape's watchful eyes. "You assume a lot, Mr Weasley. You think that we, that is to say any illegal organisation rallying against your beloved so-called 'omnishambles', don't have well placed insiders already?"

"You'd benefit from more though, surely?" I asked, feeling properly reprimanded.

She sat back in her chair, looking across her desk at me with calculating eyes. After a while, although I'd long given up on her giving me a chance, she opened a drawer and began writing a letter (though whom the recipient was I couldn't tell). "It isn't my choice to pick and choose recruits, Mr Weasley. Certainly not ones placed so high up in the Ministry. If you are deemed suitable, you and Miss Price will be contacted, for of her influence here I have no doubt."

I thanked her, she'd given me more of a chance than I'd ever expected, and left the office feeling more self-assured than I'd felt in months.

* * *

A.N. I kinda want to expand on this – someone tell me off/don't let me.


End file.
